I eat proses for breakfast

Scarlet letter: Tale of the Matriach

i. You were akin to a white knight on a hastening stallion apt to rescue a damsel in distress, paralleled to a Romeo and Juliet quintessence of a romance, bewitching maiden in its entirety, an elysian in the true essence of the word.

ii. Whilst in reality, you are not a white knight nor am I a damsel in distress. We are not in a fairytale-like story existing in a magical land full of rainbows and unicorns yearning for a happy ever after. Your usual insouciant and placid facet starkly juxtaposed a gallant and undaunted knight. Notwithstanding the disparity, I was enthralled.

iii. Meeting each other amid our juvenescence, without wary of forthcoming uncertainty, chasmic romance unveiled. The sweet scent of coffee in the morning, the warmth of summer breeze embracing every fiber of our being. Laying next to each other throughout serene afternoon on a sturdy hill, overlooking the golden sky, solely hearing the cicadas chirping in harmony of our hearts beating. Nelipots sauntering along the seashore, basking under the moonlit night, with our clasped hands. The way your fingers dance on the piano keys while humming a melody out of tune as I balter in an empty ballroom hall. Pondering the olden, I still reminisce the vehemence of forelsket. Querencia.

iv. Was it in the midst of those moments that I realized? Or has it been there from the beginning?The sultriness of love lingered through our soul like a red string that connects us together. Everything seemed surreal —the tranquil and soothing moments that neither the two of us thought it was sojourn.

v. Regretting all the letters I never sent and ineffable words I failed to convey. What feels like eternal euphoria inside an impenetrable bubble wasn't as long lasting as it turned out to be. Feeble as dandelions buffeted by winds —cast about by the towering waves of cruel fate and now i feel it being ripped from my grasp. And in that moment —albeit crestfallen, I concede, like sands in my palm being washed by the ocean —everything vanished. Ten years past by like a blur and every time the memories are flashing through my mind, I still feel the same thing I feel back then —a lone passenger boarding a first class plane on a trip to pain island. Love faded but the scars remain.

After writing, I closed the book —my diary. I held it to my chest and uttered the last line,

"There are things in life that you never get over because if you do, you'll miss the lesson"

&&fin